Chapter 9
The devastating reality of his situation crashed down on Michael Carter as he stood on the bright, sunlit sidewalk outside the corporate headquarters. He held the manila folder with trembling hands. His bank accounts were frozen, his credit cards were canceled, his job was gone, and he was being evicted from the only home he knew. He was, in a matter of twelve hours, completely and utterly destitute.
He managed to hail a cab, promising the driver he had cash at the estate, and rushed back to his parents.
When he burst through the front doors of the Carter mansion, the scene was one of absolute, chaotic panic. David Carter, the seventy-year-old patriarch, was screaming into a telephone in the grand foyer.
"What do you mean the line of credit is pulled?" David roared, his fair face purple with rage. "I have been a client of your bank for thirty years! You cannot just liquidate my margin accounts!"
Jessica was rushing down the grand staircase, her arms full of expensive designer clothes and jewelry boxes. She looked like a woman fleeing a burning building.
"Michael!" Jessica cried out, dropping a velvet box onto the hardwood floor. "The estate manager just arrived with the local sheriff! They are giving us until noon to vacate the premises! What did you do? You were supposed to control her!"
"She fired me!" Michael yelled back, throwing the divorce papers onto a side table. "She froze everything! The company, the accounts, the trusts—it’s all gone! She locked me out of the building!"
David slammed the telephone down onto the receiver. He turned to his son, his eyes blazing with a mixture of terror and furious disappointment.
"You fool," David hissed, walking slowly toward Michael. "You absolute, arrogant fool. I told you to keep her happy. I told you that our entire lifestyle rested on her goodwill!"
"It was Mother's fault!" Michael deflected desperately, pointing a shaking finger at Jessica. "She's the one who threw the soup on the kids! Emily just snapped!"
"Do not blame me for your inability to manage your wife!" Jessica shrieked defensively. "If you were half the man your father is, she wouldn't have dared raise a hand to our table!"
"Enough!" David bellowed. The old man rubbed his face, looking around the opulent, brilliantly lit foyer of the house he was about to lose. "We need a lawyer. We need to fight the eviction. We can claim squatter's rights, or martial assets... something!"
"With what money, Dad?" Michael laughed, a hysterical, broken sound. "Emily’s lawyers are sharks. They've already tied up every single liquid asset we have in litigation. We can't even afford to hire a public defender."
The sound of heavy, authoritative knocking echoed through the grand double doors.
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"Mr. Carter," a voice called from outside. It was the local sheriff. "This is the police. We have a court-ordered eviction notice. Please open the door and begin vacating the premises peacefully."
The three Carters stood frozen in the center of their beautiful, useless mansion. The bright, cinematic sunlight streaming through the windows felt like a harsh, exposing spotlight, highlighting their total, irreversible downfall. They had pushed the golden goose too far, and now, they were being thrown to the wolves.
